Alone in empty places (and thinking of you)
by BarricadeOfNargles
Summary: "Do you trust me?" Regulus asked. His grey eyes pinned James down with the weight of emotion in them. "With my life."


James took a swig of his drink as his fingers curled around the small photograph. It was old and slightly worn, its edges frayed. The occupant of the photo smiled up at him, a small precious thing. Their eyes were soft as they gazed at him. James closed his burning eyes and gulped down more of the fiery drink. The bar was empty save for an old man curled around his drink as though it were his lifeblood, and a stocky woman flitting about between the tables. He tried to look at the photograph once more but it unnerved him, it frayed the edges of his sanity until he was swallowing the lumps in his throat furiously for fear of choking if he were to stop. A small, happy laugh echoed in his mind, an unwanted memory ricocheting through his head as he ordered another drink. He shut his eyes once more, his empty hand coming up to wipe at his eyes with shaking fingers. He swallowed thickly.

A chair was scraped back from besides him and a tall, bespectacled man sat down. The man was dressed as ridiculously as ever, and yet the colours were different. Muted, dull. It showed in his eyes and his slumped shoulders. James dragged his eyes away, his fingers curling around his picture before carefully placing it in his breast pocket. The man was quiet, his eyes studying James' tense figure, his slightly red nose, and puffy eyes.

"Evening, sir." James murmured after a beat of silence.

"Good evening James." The headmaster replied, his voice gentle.

"With all due respect sir, it most certainly fucking isn't." James rasped, his fingers squeezing the glass in his hands.

"Of course Mr. Potter, I apologise."

James waved him off, his fingers unconsciously scratching at the photo in his pocket. He gulped down the next shot quickly and finally turned towards the older man. The headmasters' eyes were soft and gleaming with grief, his mouth thin and his posture slumped. As though the weight of the deaths around them had settled on his shoulders, intent on burying him, driving him into the ground. There seemed to be something else that added to the desperate gleam in the mans' eyes. It was hidden between his clenched fingers and his drawn brows. James had spent a lot of time- too much, he thought bitterly, cooped up with the man at the orders' headquarters that he understood the silence. Understood that the man had bad news. James questioned the wisdom of it now, in his drunken state he would undoubtedly not fare well with whatever it was. He restrained himself from ordering another drink for the time being.

"James," the professor murmured, his words quick and hushed. "it is unfortunate what has happened-"

"Unfortunate?" James asked, his voice slightly louder than he intended with his shock. "Yes, it is very unfortunate. The man I-" his voice cracked. He took a deep breath through his nose before continuing, his tone less menacing with every broken word. "I cared for him very much so yes, it is pretty damn unfortunate." Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes but he rubbed at them zealously until all he felt was stinging skin.

"I didn't even get to tell him."

"He knew Mr Potter, as you sure knew of his feelings."

"We're a pair of dumb bastards, right? So fucking stupid! Lily always said that even with both our brains combined we were still tremendously stupid."

"I'd like to politely disagree with Miss Evans on that account. You brought out the best in each other."

James was shaking his head before the headmaster had finished. "No. No, he has always been better. He is better in every way and I wished it were me right now. I wish it with everything I have but it can't. Some use magic is, right?" a dry laugh drew out of his mouth mirthlessly. "No, he is better. He is courageous and kind. He is- fuck! He was! He was," tremors wracked through his body as he continued, his voice thick. "He was funny and smart and fucking beautiful. He didn't need me; he was already perfect."

The look in Dumbledore's eyes was enough to make James order more alcohol and knock it back quickly. They sat in silence before Dumbledore sighed. "James-"

"Please. Just give me a second. Please." His eyes were clenched tightly shut. Phantom fingers traced softly onto his skin as soft lips glided across his own. James' throat ran dry as a wave of longing coursed through his body. He wouldn't be able to do it anymore, couldn't hold him anymore, couldn't kiss him until they were both drowning in oblivion. He pulled at his hair tightly before rubbing his eyes again, his tears littering the counter he was leaning against as he tried to compose himself. He took a deep breath and forced himself to move forward. To ignore the soft fingers running through his hair, the curl of lips against his neck, the groan of his name between desperate kisses. James slammed the cup against the counter, his breathing laboured as it became increasingly harder to ignore his grief.

When James spoke again his voice was coarse. "Professor, could we possibly talk some other time? I know the order is- just," he breathed in roughly, "please, can I be left alone tonight?" he whispered.

"Of course James." The man replied softly, his expression pinched with sadness, eyes tearful. He stood gracefully and James had to close his eyes. He drowned in waves of emotion as he remembered lithe gracefulness and small smiles. The man seemed to want to reach out to touch his shoulder but settled on standing beside him.

"I am truly sorry for your loss." The headmaster murmured sadly before walking away. His steps seemed to carry in the room. James listened as the man said a gentle goodbye to the portly bartender, and apparated away. James pulled the photograph out of his pocket once more. He breathed in the slight curl of hair around the mans' ear, his soft eyes filled with a rare moment of unguarded happiness and an edge of vulnerability. He ran his fingers across his lovers face


End file.
